Catfish Frantic

and a father with a fishing pole | five starving children |
two sisters at home and a brother in rehab | little sister at the shore
glove to hold fish | hook in the mouth | desperate
& hungry | father never taught us how to gut fish ||

And so we eat the fish whole
And raw
Our children picking barbs from inside their cheeks


Copyright © 2014 b: william bearheart. This poem originally appeared in Tupelo Quarterly. Reprinted with the permission of Carrie Bearheart.